


An Architect’s Dream

by gillianaunofficial



Category: Sex Education (TV), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:36:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillianaunofficial/pseuds/gillianaunofficial
Summary: Jean meets Stella after taking a life drawing class. University AU.This has been sitting in my drafts for a while.
Relationships: Stella Gibson/Jean Milburn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	An Architect’s Dream

It was Thursday. Life drawing day. Jean had taken it up just a few weeks ago, she’d seen the advertisement on the bulletin board and it had intrigued her. The human body was of a lot of interest to her. Plus she’d taken art during her A-levels. Jean had been enjoying it, the models weren’t really anything special and the environment wasn’t that of a sexual one. It was a respite during the mid week, just to be able to sit at an easel for an hour and draw someone. It was very zen and she didn’t know any of the other people that attended so she wasn’t forced to make conversation with them.

It was raining. She’d walked to the building, the afternoon having started out clear and blue before quickly devolving into some rather aggressive rain and wind. She entered and sat down at her station, shedding her sodden jacket and placing it below her chair, the water had soaked through to her shirt causing parts of it to cling to her skin. She sighed and went to gather herself some pencils from the large array that was kept in a metal cabinet at the back of the room. A few other people were beginning to arrive, equally as wet and dishevelled as Jean. She sat down, waiting for the teacher to arrive with the model. She could see the fog of rain through the small windows, the area outside looking grey and morose, the branches of a single leafless tree leaned over the window. The teacher arrived a few minutes late, his greying hair spiky from the rain, the model stood behind him, an expression of calmness on her face as she brushed a strand of blonde hair away from her face. Jean was caught by her staring blue eyes, intense in a room of unremarkableness. The model was sent away to get undressed. She came back into the room, a robe draped around her slim frame before dropping it as she sat down in the middle of the semicircle of attendees. Jean fingered an HB pencil, looking at the woman who sat in front of her. She couldn’t remember ever seeing someone quite so physically flawless. She set to work on her drawing, making sure to capture the contours of her hips and the curve of her breast. Jean’s heart rate quickened as she sketched the bevelled surface of the sitter’s nipple and the curl of platinum hair that brushed it. She was very definitely attracted to this woman. She drew, intently trying to make the picture as close to perfect as she could, she looked up just for an instant to look at her and found her own line of sight reflected in the eyes she was trying to draw. She subconsciously licked her lips and found just a hint of a smile spreading on the sitter’s face, a twinkle in her eye. Jean quickly set back to work. She had the most simply beautiful face, it had a similar structure to Jean’s own face. A slender, aquiline nose and plump lips which she struggled to correctly draw. She savoured each pencil mark as she drew.

It was nearing the end of the session but Jean found herself not wanting to leave, this woman truly was the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen and it seemed wrong to have to stop drawing her and, well, looking at her. It was as though she was high, infatuated with the proportions and details of this perfect woman. She’d finished her third sketch and the class began to pack up, she hesitantly did so too, the model staying stock still until Jean had finally given up drawing the experience out. One thing she’d noticed, during the whole hour, not once had the model moved her arms away from resting on top of her thighs. Most models shifted in places but her arms had stayed completely unmoved. She got up and went to put away her pencils but as she walked back to her seat to get her jacket she was again met by the gaze of the woman, now wrapped in the white cotton robe all the sitters were given. Something seemed unnatural, out of place, she needed to be seen in something more elegant than simple reused cotton. Jean pulled her jacket on, slinging her crochet patterned bag over her shoulder. She made sure she had everything and was about to leave when the sitter walked very deliberately up to her, the teacher had had to leave early due to another engagement and had left everyone to pack up themselves.

“Hi.” The sitter said, Jean was taller than her but only because of the wedges she wore.

“Hello.” Jean replied, a small uncertain smile on her face.

“Would you like to get a drink with me.” She said, more a statement than a question. Jean’s face flushed pink at the offer.

“Uh…” She found herself a little lost for words. “That would be nice?” She really was being picked up by this woman wasn’t she? Jean did the picking and choosing and she wasn’t used to being chosen by someone, especially not someone as beautiful as the woman in front of her.

“Alright, I’ll get dressed and we can go.” She said, by now they were the only two left in the room, everyone else had left to go back out into the rain.

“Now?” Jean asked, her hand clenching around her bag strap.

“Yes, now.” She replied, walking away to the small bathroom to get changed.

“I don’t know your name.” Jean said as the woman came back out of the bathroom now clothed, an elegant white shirt hung across her chest, the top three buttons undone revealing just a tease of her cleavage. But Jean had already seen all of that. “Stella. Stella Gibson.”

“So, Stella, how come you were modelling for the life drawing class?” Jean said, as they sat in the bar stools of a local bar that Jean had never heard of until Stella walked her there. It was a lot warmer in there than out in the storm, the faintest hint of rain echoed off the ceiling of the bar.

“I needed some extra money. Why were you taking them? Are you an art student? You look like an art student.” Stella said, taking a sip of the wine she’d ordered, her tongue sliding over her lips after she swallowed.

“Oh no, I’m not an art student, I’m just doing it for fun. Actually I’m studying psychology.” Jean replied, she wondered what Stella studied.

“Psychology.” Stella played with the word, looking at Jean, Jean really couldn’t get over the intensity of her gaze. “I wouldn’t peg you the type.”

“What type would you peg me as then?” Jean asked, tilting her head, leaning it on her hand, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Art, as I said, English lit or perhaps even foreign languages.” Jean quirked an eyebrow.

“I love those things but psychology I find a lot more interesting, to be able to figure out what goes on inside someone’s head. I want to help people, all those other things aren’t really helping anyone, they’re just pouring over some old books. It never changes.” Stella nodded slowly.

“What would you think I study?” Stella asked, her fingers tracing the stem of the wine glass, the soft blue neon lights of the bar reflected off it making the wine look a deep purple. Jean looked at her, perfect hair, perfect face, perfectly put together outfit. All very professional.

“Business. Maybe law. Something like that, I think you like to be in control.” Jean said, choosing her words carefully.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re very put together. You seem to know exactly what you want, you came up to me asking me to go for a drink with you before I even knew your name.” Stella hummed in agreement.

“I study criminology. And I’m not as put together as I seem.” Stella replied, her left hand had drifted down and clung to her thigh, making small indents in her skirt. Jean wondered about what was under there.

“Criminology.” Jean nodded, “That’s interesting.” Stella agreed. There was a moment of silence as the conversation plateaued.

“I have a question.” Jean said, sipping her wine.

“What?” Stella asked.

“Why do you hide your thighs?” Stella clenched her jaw, her expression shifting as she glanced down.

“Oh no reason.” She said, the lie obvious as she fidgeted and tapped her fingers against the edge of her seat.

“Stella, it’s alright whatever it is I’m sure it’s perfectly normal.” Jean said, her hand finding Stella’s knee, the tips of their fingers touching. Stella flinched at the contact. She began to speak, her voice low and ashamed.

“I cut myself.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest. Jean looked at her, impossible to discern her thoughts in the conflicted expression on her face.

“I’m sorry, Stella.” She replied. Stella’s shoulders constricted at the pity, pursing her lips as her fingernails dug into her forearm.

“Jean, I’m sorry but I need to go. I just remembered I was supposed to be meeting up with a friend.” Stella said quickly, putting her coat on with a quick goodbye. Jean watched her as she left the pub. A half full glass of wine sat deserted next to her own glass. Enough money had been left by Stella to pay for both of their drinks, a wrinkled ten pound note sat on the wood. Jean sighed, sipping her wine which she couldn’t bear to waste. The image of the blonde hovering in her mind. It was strange for Jean to hang onto someone, Jean was bad with names but Stella’s was permanently lodging itself in her brain. She transfixed her. Stella Gibson was an enigma and Jean liked puzzles.


End file.
